Page 38 of Renegade
Her nipples are impossibly hard as I trail the thorny stem around them, and she pulls at her wrists, struggling to get free.
“Don’t. Move.”
I can tell it takes a concerted effort, but she stops fighting the restraints, even when I test her by pressing the sharp point of the thorn against the tender skin just under her nipple. It’s not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to make every muscle in her body clench with anticipation. But she doesn’t break. Driven by some devil in me that’s taken over, some inexplicable desire to see how far I can push her, I move to her sex, the tiny dagger of the thorn pressing slightly into the tender bare skin right at the top of her pussy. Her thighs slam together.
“Keep your legs open.” I issue the command softly, but I use my firmest tone—the one that usually has the men I lead quickly obeying.
She whimpers softly, but she parts her legs again. As she said, her trust in me is absolute, and my dick has never been so hard. Fuck this. I have to taste her.
Tossing the rose aside, I grab her by the hair and tug her head back so I can kiss her. I lick lightly at her lips, and she opens her mouth to me hungrily. I dip my tongue in, tasting the sweet, dark, wet heat of her mouth. I break the kiss but linger with my lips mere inches from hers. I want to inhale every sigh, every moan, every gasp that I intend to extract from her.
“Don’t you dare come,” I remind her with a growl into her ear. Then I plunge my finger unceremoniously into her wetness. Her pussy clenches around me.
“Oh, fuck,” she breathes as her head rolls back.
I work my finger slowly in and out of her, building her arousal. When her hips are churning, I touch her clit lightly with my thumb, pressing lightly as I continue fucking her with my finger.
“Oh, God. Oh, God. I’m going to come.”
I stop abruptly and give her sex a soft spank. She lets loose a string of curse words that would make a sailor proud.
“You aren’t allowed to come until I say you can,” I say, nibbling at her lips with my teeth. I work my way to the right, nipping at her jaw and then grabbing the lobe of her ear with my teeth.
“You bastard!”
“You asked for this. This is what it’s like to be owned. To give your power to someone else.”
I kiss my way down her body and slide between her legs so her sex is just above my mouth. She’s dripping for me. With my hands on her thighs, I spread her wider, holding her open as I tease her relentlessly, licking, biting, and kissing her everywhere but that sweet nub that I know is begging for my tongue. When she’s whimpering, I fasten my lips over her hard little clit and suck. She moans loudly, and it’s all I can do not to tongue her into oblivion. I want more than anything to make her come like I did last night, to make her wild with pleasure, but I have to remember the goal. Tonight is about control. Mine.
So I torture both of us, stoking the fire inside her until it’s at a flashpoint, then backing off, only to fan the flames again, each time taking her a little bit closer to the fire. Her body is easy to read, and I can tell when she’s close to hurtling over the edge. Her chest heaves, her back arches, and the tendons and muscles in her thighs clench as if they are made of fine, honed steel. I find I can bring her within a hairbreadth of orgasm, and each time I back off—sometimes spanking her ass a few times, which, judging by her wiggles and moans, she enjoys as much as I do, but more often than not letting my lips and hands wander over her body. Then, when her breathing starts to slow, I start all over again.
I lose track of time, lost in the taste of her, her skin salty sweet from the exertion of being strung out on pleasure. I explore every inch of her, amazed at how every part of her tastes a little different. I kiss and bite—her earlobes, her upper arms, her inner thighs, and her breasts—not hard enough to leave any lasting marks, but enough to make her squirm. Remembering Cooper’s words, I nip her inner thigh sharply, and she squeals. The sound, coupled with the way she struggles to evade my teeth, unleashes something inside me, something primitive and wild. I suddenlywantto make her squirm. Make her beg. Make her mine. Tonight, I want to leave my mark on her…one way or another. I nip her again. This time the squeal turns into a moan.
I gaze at her beautiful face that is as familiar to me as my own as I plunge into her slick folds, finger fucking her to the edge again.
“Make me come, Walker.” Her voice is thready with need.
“Beg me for it, baby.” My voice has an unfamiliar raspy edge to it, and I realize I’m as desperate as she is. But there’s a heady sense of power in controlling her body this way, in denying her the pleasure she’s clearly aching for.
“Please. Please. Please.” She utters it like a mantra. Her body is glistening with a sheen of sweat, her nipples are rosy and erect, and there’s a noticeable wet spot on the sheets beneath her. I’ve never seen anything more fucking beautiful than Gemma is right this minute.
“No.”
She growls her dissatisfaction. Enjoying myself now, I find her G-spot and press against it, moving my fingers in the same come-hither motion I used last night that made her squirt. Just like last night, she goes crazy, pulling against the restraints as she bucks and grinds her pelvis against my hand. How has no one discovered her G-spot before? It’s like a massively responsive pleasure button. I’m relentless, determined to push her to the razor-sharp edge of neediness.
“I can’t take it anymore,” she gasps.
I don’t stop. “Yes, you can. Take it for me.”
I intended to follow Cooper’s instructions and deny her tonight, but something about the way she’s writhing—or maybe it’s the way she’s whimpering my name—sets off something inside me. Her vulnerability gets me off. Fuck it. I want to own her, if only for tonight. I want her to know it’s me who commands her body, who can make her come like no one else can, whom she can be her most vulnerable with. I want her to know unequivocally thatI’mthe one who can make her let go. Only I can send her over the edge and catch her when she falls.
Still rubbing her G-spot, I pinch her nipple. “You want to come, baby?” I croon.
She arches up into me. “God, yes.”
I add a little twist. “Tell me.”
She gasps. “Please. I want to come. Please make me come.”
